


Catching a Safety Net

by hermanthejanitor



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, M/M, Magic Revealed, Powerful Merlin (Merlin), Protective Merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 17:09:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30041997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hermanthejanitor/pseuds/hermanthejanitor
Summary: Merlin is forced out of Camelot but is determined to keep protecting Arthur. Arthur is equally determined not to let him. Recklessness ensues.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 158





	Catching a Safety Net

The day Merlin is driven out of Camelot is sunny. Arthur has to squint against the brightness of it as he stands at his father’s side on the castle walls. The King is scowling out into the kingdom as if expecting the escaped sorcerer to send up a flare. It isn’t beyond the realms of possibility where Merlin is concerned.

“He must be found,” the King growls, eyes black with rage, “he has been in the heart of Camelot for too long, he knows too many of our secrets. He must be exterminated like the vermin he is before he can conspire against us.”

Arthur quietly thinks that any sentence linking the words ‘Merlin’ and ‘conspire’ is inherently ludicrous but he nods gravely.

“I will lead the search myself.”

Uther’s glare is turned on him.

“Can you be relied upon in this matter? You were unusually… _fond_ of the boy after all.”

Arthur doesn’t blink.

“That is why I can be trusted above all others to see this through to the end. I was deceived completely, I will not let such a betrayal stand.”

Uther watches him for a moment before nodding and Arthur is free.

His search is methodical. He has soldiers check every house in the lower town. He sends Lancelot and Gwaine to Ealdor. He questions Gaius at length.

These efforts bear no fruit, nor did he expect them to.

He leads patrols into the forest, starting in the woods to the east that Merlin has always been partial to before moving outwards in ever-expanding circles.

He finds a trail only once, leading north, and follows it until it stops at a clearing of crushed shrubbery. Long gouges have been torn into the earth by something heavy and clawed. He rides hard for two more days in the same direction before the fatigue of his men makes him stop.

Arthur sits by the campfire that evening, silent while the knights laugh and joke around him, and reflects that it would be a very cold night indeed for a solitary traveller with no supplies or proper clothing.

No one tries to talk to him on the journey back but he does not feel alone.

* * *

The monster is wolf-like, blood-red in colour with a hide as sharp as a hedgehog’s back but a hundred times thicker. Blades do not hurt it and armour only seems to anger it. It ploughs into their flank almost without warning, its baying like a whole battalion banging their shields.

Arthur is thrown from his horse, the beast’s fangs inches from his face, when there is a flash of gold and the roaring growl ceases. Arthur looks down at his chest where a wolf cub now sits, looking thoroughly put out. It yips its disappointed bloodlust at him and then scampers into the bushes to find more size-appropriate foes to vanquish.

Arthur looks in all directions, has his men scour the surrounding area in minuscule detail, but there is no sign. Arthur thinks carefully. He studies his person and finally fixes on one of his rings. It is one a visiting duke had gifted him many years ago that he wears out of habit now.

He holds it in the palm of his hand and feels an overwhelming sensation of safety and rightness, like when he returns to his chambers after a six-hour council meeting and finds a bath steaming in readiness. He imagines he can feel the pulse of magic within the metal even through his glove.

He hurls it into the trees without hesitation.

When he returns to the castle he initiates a thorough inventory of all his possessions. He checks everything, from his sheets to the quills on his desk. Anything that gives him that warm impression, that sense of being cherished and protected, he discards.

Three of his favourite tunics are burnt, his red jacket is given away, new plates are ordered for his meals and his favourite sword is left to gather dust. Most of his knickknacks and jewellery must be cast aside and there is a distressing day where he is forced to wear boots riddled with holes because his other dozen pairs are tainted. His bed frame needs replacing and it takes six burley servants several hours to do so.

His armour is the worst for it, he just has to put a finger to a vambrace and he is almost overwhelmed by a feeling of utter security. He makes do with borrowed or spare armour and sometimes none at all. The younger, stupider knights think him brave and the more seasoned ones know him to be foolish.

He’s a little insulted when he finds every goblet in the castle has been infected and has to have his own special cup commissioned, acting like the kind of prince he has always ridiculed. When he starts glaring distrustfully at a mace during practice, not sure if he likes it for its own sake or for some secret reason, he wonders if he is going insane. When he finds himself seriously considering if his favourite horse is enchanted, he knows he is.

One day he picks up the poker to stoke the fire and finds himself swaddled in a bloom of contentment. He nearly breaks the thing over his knee.

How can one manservant have been so remiss in so many things and yet so diligent at performing this one not-duty?

He decides enough is enough and he rides out into the Valley of the Fallen Kings without knights, armour or weapons. He sits there patiently until a decent-sized horde of bandits happen upon him and draw their swords with a triumphant cry.

They charge him, the air vibrating with the thunder of hooves, and he doesn’t move a muscle. He just has time to reflect that he might have miscalculated when the bandits and their mounts vanish like so much smoke. Arthur cranes his neck eagerly, standing up in his stirrups, and there, stalking towards him with a furious expression, is Merlin.

“You utter imbecile!” he is spitting like an angry cat, “of all the pig-headed, reckless, brainless, moronic things to do! Are you trying to give me a bloody heart attack? Is this some new way of killing off sorcerers you’ve devised? Because next time just run me through and have done with it, you arse!”

Arthur is off his horse, striding to meet Merlin with quick steps. Merlin stupidly lets him come, apparently forgetting that Arthur is supposed to kill him and knows sixteen ways to end a life with his bare hands.

“After all the effort I put into keeping you safe, why did I even bother?”

He is standing before Arthur now, jabbing him in the chest, eyes sparking like scattered coals. His face becomes almost pained.

“I could feel it, Arthur, how you threw piece after piece of me away. Do you really hate me that much? I know I hurt you, but I thought…how could you…”

His eyes fill with tears and Arthur has had enough.

He grabs Merlin by the collar and drags him in close, shaking him hard enough to shut him up.

“You said you would never leave me.”

Even to his own ears he sounds strangled and he makes an effort to pull himself together. Merlin blinks at him.

“I-I didn’t. I had-”

“Two months. _Two months_ of throwing away your protection charms and not a word. I could have been killed and you weren’t there!”

Merlin gapes unattractively.

“Um…what?”

“I had to ride into this death trap unarmed for God’s sake, do you have any idea how dangerous that was?”

“How is this my fault?” Merlin straightens, affronted and Arthur puts a hand around his neck to quiet him, not squeezing just keeping him still.

“You weren’t there, _Mer_ lin. What was I supposed to do?”

“I have been preparing for years, making things ready so you would be safe if I was ever banished or killed-”

Arthur lets out an almost-whine and Merlin automatically reaches up and cups his cheek, stroking soothingly with his thumb. He still looks annoyed and confused but the urge to comfort surpasses all. Arthur clenches his jaw.

“This isn’t acceptable. I don’t want just pieces of you, I need everything. I need you beside me, always.”

Furrows line Merlin’s brow.

“But I have magic. I’ve been lying to you for years, you should be-”

Merlin seems determined to talk himself into an execution and Arthur decides he’s really not getting the point. He kisses him and that shuts Merlin up nicely.

When they break apart, Merlin looks gratifyingly dazed and it takes everything in Arthur to not just dip into him until the world crumbles around them.

“You’ll come back now, won’t you? There must be a spell or something,” he presses their foreheads together, “I won’t stand for you protecting me from afar. You’re supposed to be with me, I know it, anything else is intolerable.”

Merlin’s breath comes out shaky but the hands bracketing Arthur’s hips are strong.

“I don’t want it to be like this, being away from you breaks my heart.”

“Then bloody do something about it,” Arthur doesn’t beg, “I will walk into danger every day if that’s what it takes to see you.”

Merlin chokes a laugh. “Arrogant, stubborn Prat. As if I don’t have better things to do with my life than save yours.”

“You don’t,” Arthur murmurs into his ear, savouring the shiver it incites. Merlin sighs against him.

“I know.”

He looks up and grins and the feeling that floods Arthur has nothing to do with magic.

* * *

When Arthur finally hires a new manservant, the King breathes a sigh of relief, thinking the whole mess has been put behind them. It had seemed that the last servant’s betrayal would hang over his heir forever, driving him to irrational dissatisfaction with everything he owns and increasingly concerning displays of recklessness.

He is disappointed to find that the new boy is hardly an improvement though. He is as clumsy as the last and somehow even more insolent. He thinks at least he will be spared the indignity of Arthur’s infatuation with this one, he is hardly anything worth looking at after all, but the Prince beams upon him as if he is seeing something entirely different and drags the boy along with him everywhere.

One day he is passing the Prince’s chambers and hears the boy say something about going to visit his mother. Uther is relieved by the thought of a reprieve from the two-headed creature he and Arthur seem to become. Then he hears his son, who as a child had once spent a full day up a tree to escape the attentions of his nurse, announce that he could not be without a servant for so long and would go as well.

“And if you leave without me, I will drink the suspiciously glowing wine Princess Eda just gifted me.”

“Oh, give it a rest already. I was going to ask you to come, you prat.”

Uther startles that anyone would dare address a prince such a way and subtly edges the door open so he can witness the punishment his son will administer. Instead, he sees two figures embracing passionately, Arthur’s hands roving over the servant’s back in clear possession. The boy is gripping back in utter bliss.

Uther shuts the door quietly and sighs. Is there no manservant in the kingdom Arthur won’t fall for?

Back in the room, Arthur looks into crystal blue eyes and reflects that this is how it feels to be loved. He vows to never have to go without it again.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first Canon Era fic I have managed to actually finish, which is probably why it is so short. I hope you enjoyed this bit of silliness, all comments and kudos are much appreciated! Thank you for reading :)


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